


His

by A_Study_In_Johnlock



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes, M/M, No Dialogue, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive John Watson, Sherlock Holmes Loves John Watson, Top John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 15:29:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12773964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Study_In_Johnlock/pseuds/A_Study_In_Johnlock
Summary: Quite often, John finds himself taken with Sherlock





	His

John’s mouth slid down onto the smooth, hard length of Sherlock’s cock, his lips wet with his own saliva and Sherlock’s precum, sliding him in inch by delicious inch, his eyes drifting up the supine length of Sherlock’s body; his soft, ivory skin, his pink, rosy nipples, the long expanse of his neck, his pouty, cupid bow lips, his eyes screwed shut as his head thrashed from side to side, his raven curls surrounding his head like a dark halo.

His dark angel.

John could feel his cock leaking onto the mattress below, long and thick and ready. He ground against the bed as he bobbed his head, letting Sherlock’s moans fuel him even further, his hand coming up to cup Sherlock’s bollocks in his hand, rolling them softly and as gently as possible, causing the man below him to gasp and his sweat flushed thighs to tremble. It revealed the black plug exuding from Sherlock’s pink hole, squeezing gently around the shape of it as it vibrated on its third setting, teasing against his prostate.

Sherlock had had enough, letting the tips of his toes trace up John’s legs, eliciting a shiver as Sherlock gave him a tell-tale pull which John followed through, rising to his knees long enough to pull the long limbed Sherlock towards him by his thighs, placing them on either side of his hips. 

His long-legged dancer.

John hovered over Sherlock, smiling as the detective’s hands rose to cup his face, pulling him into a deep kiss where Sherlock explored his mouth with his tongue, catagloguing his own taste. John groaned as the tip of Sherlock’s tongue teased his, then rounded along the roof of his mouth, just behind his teeth, sending a warm shiver down John’s spine.

Immediately, John deepened the kiss, eliciting a whimper from Sherlock’s lips as he fought the man back for dominance. As usual, he lost and John could have sworn he felt a ghost of a smile on Sherlock’s lips. It made John’s cock harden even further, his hands find their way up Sherlock’s inner thighs.

His brilliant mad man.

John spread Sherlock’s open and met her verdigris eyes before gently pulled the plug from inside of him, watching entranced between the dilation of his pupils and hungrily as his hole attempted to swallow around the plug, an inhuman sound falling from his lips which could only be catalogued as a strangled groan by Sherlock. 

Sherlock immediately wrapped his legs around John, signaling the man to hurry up and John wasted no time. He slotted himself between Sherlock’s thighs so that their cocks touched, causing Sherlock to spread his thighs even further so that he could grind against John. John watched, breathless and infatuated, looking down between them, watching Sherlock’s thighs move sinuously against his, sending a shock down his spine. Eventually, he moved, too, joining in on their dance. 

His heart.

Sherlock gasped and rutted shamelessly against John and John could only feel pity for the man as he’d been torturing him with the plug for the last half hour or so, so he put Sherlock out of his misery. John still their hips and pulled Sherlock up so that he could reach over and put a pillow under his perfect, delectable arse. Sherlock helped them get into a comfortable position and, when he was ready, his hands grasped John’s, a tell-tale sign that he was ready to let go.

Just as Sherlock had become so accustomed and good at reading others, John learned to read him, learning all of his likes and dislikes and all of his signs. He knew, and Sherlock would never admit it aloud, that Sherlock needed someone to be gentle to him through all things, he needed reassurance, and, just sometimes, to  _ let go. _

John slowly slipped the head of his cock past the ring of muscle of Sherlock’s hole, eliciting a slow, heavy inhale from Sherlock as John gently rolled his hips, opening Sherlock even further with the width of his cock, groaning as warmth and slick sucked and invited him like he’d always belonged there. Sherlock was shaking beneath him, his thighs trembling on either side. He was trying his very best to not just come from being so full and he nearly failed as John bottomed out, the head of his cock pressing against his prostate. Sherlock’s lips were wet and parted as quick, shallow breaths left him. His eyes had slipped closed. John wasn’t allowing the man to slip away just yet, so he leaned over and peppered kisses along Sherlock’s nose, cheeks, and, finally, his eyelids. Sherlock’s eyes slipped open.

His saviour.

Very slowly, John nearly pulled all the way out. Sherlock’s eyes widened just a fraction and, as John pushed all the way back in, Sherlock’s eyes fluttered and rolled back, his lids nearly closing, but John gently gripped Sherlock’s chin and, abruptly, Sherlock was brought back, his eyes bright and lively. Then, they were moving in sync. Sherlock’s hips rolled against John’s in perfect tandem. 

Until John pulled back, rising onto his knees once again, still using Sherlock’s hands as leverage, as Sherlock could feel John pressed against his prostate. John pulled out and gently pushed back into him, moaning at the sensation of Sherlock stretching around him. Sherlock whimpered as John pushed against his prostate, taking all John had to give him as John finally created a rhythm, causing a few expletives to fall from Sherlock’s lips, his eyes growing cloudy and unfocused as John pounded out this steady rhythm against Sherlock’s prostate. John could not even begin to form words of how beautiful the man looked beneath him, Sherlock’s hands still grasping onto his whilst his eyes darkened even further, his cloudy gaze, encouraging John even further.

His best friend.

Slowly and gently, John took Sherlock’s hard, weeping cock into his hand, causing Sherlock’s lower body to jolt as his gaze snapped back into focus, now widened. 

Sherlock released a harsh, shuddering breath as John began to lazily stroke up and down the length of Sherlock’s cock, his rhythm never faltering against his prostate. His thighs were trembling again; he was close.

John took his time, punching every moan and whimper out of Sherlock with his cock, as he did this solely for his own pleasure. Watching Sherlock take him so eagerly...it woke something possessive in John which made him even hungrier for this beautifully, breathtaking man.

It didn’t take too much longer for Sherlock to reach the edge of his orgasm, hanging on that precipice for a little while longer, extending his breaths to keep feeling the immense pleasure that John was bestowing upon him. But, he couldn’t hold it any longer, could no longer keep extending his breaths to calm his transport as he used to be able to do. Instead, his thighs trembled harder, his cock began to leak even more precum, falling and trailing over John’s fist, and his prostate was way too sensitive now. It was all too much and John saw it all, quickening his thrusts by the slightest amount and that was Sherlock’s undoing.

The man came hard, a cry being forcibly ripped from his throat as his cock shot out spurts of come that landed all over John’s hand and wrist as well as in between where their bodies were connected. Sherlock’s body shook with it, his head thrown back, showing his flushed skin which John couldn’t help but lean in to suck a few bruises into the pale expanse of skin, his own orgasm impending.

When John came, he came buried deep inside of Sherlock, groaning the man’s name, low, against his throat, against the marks he’d created in possession. Sherlock’s fingers wrapped in his short hair and they stayed like that for some time, sweating, covered in come, shaking from the aftermath. John pulled back to gaze at his amazing man and when opened his eyes to meet John’s gaze, a slow, lazy smile made its way onto his face which made John breathless. John kissed him, deeply, neither of them wanting to part. He gazed at the marks on Sherlock’s neck and ran his thumb over them which made Sherlock’s eyes darken once again.

_ His.  _

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed! If you did, leave a comment letting me know what you liked about it, or if you had a favourite line or part.
> 
> Have a lovely day!


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